One Page At A Time
by Licensetocreep
Summary: Set after S03E09, the Homecoming. Elena fights to keep her promises of survival, and letting go. She'll keep them alright, if Damon has anything to say about it. D/E
1. The Day The Whole World Went Away

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the Vampire Diaries, at all. It's property of Simon & Schuster, and probably a it of the CW now. Nor do I own the lyrics used below; The Day The World Went Away by Nine Inch Nails. Otherwise, enjoy!

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><p><em>I'd listen to the words he'd say<br>but in his voice I heard decay  
>the plastic face forced to portray<br>all the insides left cold and gray  
>there is a place that still remains<br>it eats the fear it eats the pain  
>the sweetest price he'll have to pay<br>the day the whole world went away  
>~*~<em>

_We will survive this. We always survive._

The words resounded through her mind for the uncountable time as she sat there, the water growing colder with every passing moment.

Time alone was a rarity for Elena, so when Damon informed her he would be going out on an errand or two, a long, relaxing bath sounded like just the thing to get her mind off.

She could not have been more wrong.

It had been a little over a week since that day, she reasoned, since she left town with Damon some lake side cottage in the middle of nowhere. He refused to tell her where, and after six attempts, she finally stopped asking. Without school or home life to keep her centered, the days tended to blur together.  
>With Damon finally out of her way for a few hours, though, she finally had the space to do what she had to. Dunking her head under one last time, Elena drained the tub, pausing only to wring out the immense length of her hair before stepping out. She didn't want to do it, not even a little, but it needed to go. It was far too easily recognizable, and if she were going to keep her promise, to survive, she needed to be unrecognizable. Scissors in one hand, thick ponytail in the other, she chopped the length in one fell swoop. It looked even enough, but it felt strange as it tickled her shoulders, and her skin grew colder yet in its absence. She was reaching for the hair dye when the new disposable phone rang.<p>

"Elena, where are you?"

His voice was so tense, she pondered if it could break under the strain. Doubtful, as it hadn't yet, she doubted it ever would.

"I'm in the bath Damon, just drying off now."

He chuckled, and took the bait as she knew he would.

"Oooh, bubbles or not bubbles?"

"That is none of your business, Damon. What's going on? What's wrong?"

"That's none of _your_ concern, Elena."

"Fine. When are you coming…", she choked on the word 'home', "back?"

"I'm on my way now, shouldn't be gone _too_ long. Inside of two hours."

"Alright."

"Stay inside."

"Damon?"

The line had already ended. Three days ago, she would have been concerned. Since then Damon had called Elena, in or out of the cottage, for every incident imaginable. The latest one, occurring 72 hours ago, a brunette age 18 had been killed in a drunk driving accident. She and at least a million other women on planet earth fit that description, but that didn't stop Damon from jumping to conclusions.

"But that's why I'm doing this," she stated resolutely to her new reflection. The black goop felt funny in her hair, and she was glad she had covered the floor and sink in old newspapers found in the basement. Elena had never dyed her hair before, despite Caroline's pleas, and when all was said and done, she questioned if she had gotten more on the floor than her head. Destroying the evidence of it all took the entire process time, and when it was rinsed clear, she wanted to sprint from the bathroom in fear.

"Don't look, don't look, don't look."

She looked. And she had no idea what to make of it.

"It worked," she whispered, a mixture of awe and defeat, "I don't even recognize me anymore."

Dressing in a plain green long-sleeve and a pair of loose jeans, Elena curled up on the faded blue paisley sofa with the only thing that remained the same, her rock, her confidant; her diary.

She hadn't written in it since homecoming. Even then, there was no entry for that night, just the basic details of the evening raised questions too painful to answer. Instead, November 7, 2011, contained but one line:

_The day the whole world went away._

Elena still had no plans involving a pen, no, she wanted what the diary already contained. Evidence, memories, proof that it wasn't all a dream.

_June 21__st__, 2009-_

_The sun came up, and reality set it…_

She was careful to skip over the evil-Damon parts. The night where she slapped him, the night of Stefan's one and only football game, still made her laugh, she could never tell why.

Elena wasn't quite sure how much time she spent lost down memory lane, but she was wiping tears from her eyes when the door opened and shut behind her. It wasn't a very large cottage. Damon stopped in his tracks.

"Get up, slowly."

"Damon…"

"And tell me what you've done with Elena."

"Damon!" The girl repeated, turning steadily to face him. She was just in time to see his rare look of fear, suppressed with anger, shift to his even rarer look of absolute surprise.

"Elena? What did you do with your hair?" He closed the space between them, holding her tightly, and else while running his fingers through her jet black locks in a mix of shock and wonder.

"I thought I needed a change."

He looked down at her, cold eyes meeting warm brown.

"You never change your hair."

"I've never ran away from home, either."

"Oh please, everyone knows I kidnapped you."

It was Elena's turn to be shocked.

"Damon, why did you tell them that?"

"So you can keep being everyone's perfect little girl; you know blondes have more fun, right?"

"This seemed safer, I didn't want to get orange."

"The black looks good on you. Come on, help me put your human food away," he motioned to the counter space currently buried under grocery bags, "I should just turn you already, the money we'd save on groceries, I'm sure we could buy a nice island somewhere."

Elena glared him down severely.

"Only kidding," he joked, with his best cheeky grin. The rest of the afternoon was spent in companionable silence, until Damon worked up the courage to ask a most important question.

"Diary again, huh? What'd you write about today, hmm? Any words about how you missed my sudden absence today?"

"No, I had a weird dream."

"Lemme guess. Stefan came home and was his perfect little vegetarian self again?" he sneered.

"It was like…it was so vivid, that when I woke up, I couldn't tell if _that _was reality, if _this_ was the nightmare."

Elena continued sorting the breakfast items when Damon moved the whole four steps into the living room.

"I think we both know the source of this problem, Elena."

He was holding the diary when she looked up, mere inches from the sparks of the crackling flames.

"Damon, no!" the young woman shouted, practically leaping over the sofa to save her precious compendium, "You can't."

"No," he shook his head calmly, handing it to her, "Only you can. But it needs to be done. Remember, _you_ said we would let him go."

"I have!"

"No, you haven't," he growled angrily, but his eyes weren't angry, they were pleading. "As long you're crying over your happy days in that diary of yours, you can't let him go. You won't-"

"I won't, what? Burn my life to ashes?"

"Move on."

And he left her there, alone with the fire, and the memories in ink, once of joy, now threatening to tear her heart apart. She was afraid he had truly left, until the sound of running water began from the bathroom. She wondered how much he missed his bathing palace of grandeur at the Salvatore family home, and in that wondering began to realize all of the things, little but important, Damon was giving up to save her life.

"I will move on," she said clearly, knowing he could hear her well enough. And with pain, heavy in her heart, she ripped the page titled _August 28__th__, 2009_, from the little green journal, and threw the torn paper into the welcoming flame.

"One page at a time."

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><p><em>AN~ I've been shipping Delena for forever it feels like, and yet this is the only time I have sought fit to write a piece about them. I know its not very romantic, but given the trauma they've both been through, Damon losing his "fake girlfriend," and Elena losing Stefan, this is just the "natural" way I see them behaving. This was intended as a one-shot, but I feel a series comin on. If enough people read it (reviews are nice too) I'll do a follow up. Hope you enjoyed!_


	2. An Open Prison

**Disclaimer: I own none of this. Zilch. The writing style itself? Mine. That's about it. Lyrics used are Bright Lights by Placebo. **

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><p><em>So I haven't given up,<br>But all my choices, my good luck...  
>Appear to go and get me stuck,<br>In an open prison.  
>Now I am tryin' to break free,<br>Be in a state of empathy.  
>Find the true and inner me,<br>Eradicate this schism.  
>-x-<br>_

Damon was not running away. He was _not_ a coward, and he was not scared. He was regrouping. With Klaus off getting reunited with his family, and Stefan ripping humans to pieces elsewhere, Mystic Falls was out of the woods, so to speak, if only for the time being. They needed to regroup, he and Elena, somewhere far from the graves of their loved ones.

He knew she was trying, really, he did. And as angry as he got over those stupid bits of paper, deep down, he knew he had no right to be. For the reason Damon was finding it increasingly easy to let Stefan go, was the very same he was having difficulty moving on from: Andie.

It should have made his desire for _her_ cool, if only a little, but it had yet to have any such effect. That she was in the bath, again, and had been for over an hour did little to help matters, and this old, tiny cottage didn't have any locks. But he knew the true nature of her new habit. Her sobs, however quiet she tried to keep them, could be heard throughout the house, even on the dock where Damon sat, watching the sunset across the waters frosted surface. It was all he could do to not go into that bathroom, and either a) have his way with her, or b) hold her until the paid stopped. He could make a glib remark, and she could smile, and they would be okay.

If only it could be so easy.

No, the things he wanted were not the things she needed. She needed space and time to heal her own wounds, before she could begin to fathom any of his own. And so he invented his current situation, option C. Here her crys were somewhat muffled, allowing him to resist his desires, and yet remain close enough that, were she to ask for him, he would be there at a moment's notice. It was all he could do.

And so he sat, and thought, trying desperately to think about something other than whether or not there were any bubbles left in Elena's bath. And he thought of Andie.

He never really loved her, he admitted it gladly. It was that he had never expected to not have her around, plain and simple. She was completely under his compulsion, his confidant, his lover, his saint. Rose had kept her free will, and look where that had gotten her. And so he worried, as the world began to dim, if he could allow himself to give his love to anyone he couldn't fully control, anyone who was so fragile. He could live with the loss of Rose, of Andie, even Katherine, who had owned and taken so much of the man he had once been. But if he lost Elena, he wondered, in this world without his brother, would he still be able to go on?

"Damon?"

He was in the house before she could worry another second. And she was worried, her eyes were red, no doubt from the torn pages in hand, and her brow was furrowed in confusion.

"Elena?" he asked, mocking her.

"Sorry, I was afraid you had just left, or—"

"No, or, no leaving. I was just outside, by the lake."  
>She seemed surprised.<p>

"Oh! Of course. Sorry, I forget, cold weather isn't much of a problem for you."

Elena looked exhausted, in a pair of black sweats with Mystic Falls HS printed on one pant leg, and a plain black tank top with a green sweater over it, as well as some rather hideous looking furry slippers. Her new hair, which Damon was still not used to, looked damp on the ends. She looked like she had just a marathon, which came as no surprise given the number of pages clutched in her small, pale hand.

He took her face in his hands, and even though he knew his touch must have been cold as ice, she didn't flinch, or turn away.

"I meant what I said before, Elena. I. Will. Never. Leave. You."

"I know, but…" she looked away, unable to face him, "going through all of this, it's like I'm reliving it. I keep thinking how impossible it must be, but there it is. I feel like I lost them all over again. And then I realize I've lost two sets of parents, and Aunt Jenna, and now Stefan! And…I just.." she just couldn't speak anymore. Not that she couldn't find the words, though that was part of the problem, but it was as if all of the air had gone out of the room, and Elena was fighting for her very last breath.

Damon wanted to hold her, he wanted to comfort her, and tell her it would be alright. But though Damon was many things, few among them good things, a liar was not one of them, at least, not to Elena that is. Though as he stood there, stuck in indecision, Elena fought her way to back, with clenched fists, breathing deep. He took the pages from her, surprised that she let him. He was polite, not looking, not reading; only counting.

"Seventeen, Elena? That's a pretty tall order," he said, brow worried as he moved towards the fire. "May I?"

She nodded, and threw the dreadful things nonchalantly into the orange blaze. He watched them go, disappearing into nondistinguishable ashes, and it was funny, he thought, how something so painful could be reduced to something so alike the ashes of a simple maple tree. But maybe that was just it, memories, like those ashes, were all the same in their infinity; pieces of the past to be forgotten. Damon was holding Elena close, before he realized what he was even doing, she spoke again.

"I know, maybe it's a bit much, but I don't want—"

"To ever stop crying?" he guessed.

"To keep you waiting."

He stepped back, taking his face in her hands again, because he wanted her to see the honesty there, the agony he was hiding so carefully. He wanted to look into her eyes, wanted her to understand, and remember these words always.

"Elena, you are a fool to think you're the only one here with demons to face and wounds to fix. I don't want you coming to me until you're ready, not a second sooner. Take your time Elena, I'm not getting any older," and though the bad joke and his cheekiest grin did not get a laugh, it did get a smile. Small, and brief, but there was more truth, more honesty, more sincere caring in that momentary expression than anyone he had ever known. Caroline, he noticed, would smile whenever necessary; it was all pretend. Elena only smiled when she had something to be happy about. He took it for the value and meaning that it was; a whole hell of a lot.

And so Damon did what he always did, he took care of her. Making sure she ate at least two bowls of piping hot soup (it was not unusual for her to forget to eat these days), wrapping her in a soft fleece blanket before the well-fed fire with her worn-out copy of Pride and Prejudice, he read it over her shoulder as he shielded her in his arms. And when she asked if he had seen Wuthering Heights about, Damon told her not in the cottage. He explained that it must have been left behind. He did not tell her that he reduced it to ashes days ago. It wasn't as if Stefan would be asking for it back anytime soon.

"We will get through this, Elena," he whispered to her now sleeping form. "We may be damaged, but we are not broken."

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><p><em>AN~ Is is just me, or is Elena one of the most emotionally honest characters on the show? When she's upset, you know. When her smiles are forced, you can tell. I really love that quality in her. By some strange miracle of fate, I actually got the weekend mostly off. So, because I'm nice and this story is burning hot in my brain, here is probably the quickest post I will have for awhile. If there are any typos, they are the fault of me and no one else. I am my own beta, sadly. If you find one PLEASE let me know, they will bug the hell out of me. As always, R&R, I will respond to ALL OF THEM. And thanks to everyone who did last time, and all of you quiet lurkers faving in the background. Each one of you are the reason why this exists at all, so, thanks for being amazing. _


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